Hari Rabbit: A Potter's Tail
by Contramancer
Summary: Response to whitetigerwolf's Harry Rabbit challenge. Angharad Potter is taken from the Dursleys at the age of four, and blood-adopted by the Rabbits from Toontown. Receiving her Hogwarts letter brings to a place to learn a different kind of magic than the kind you find in cartoons. Will the Weasley twins meet their match at pranking? Will Draco run to Daddy? Will there be a KABOOM?
1. Chapter 1

_**Hari Rabbit: A Potter's Tail.**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ If you can recognise it as part of Harry Potter or any Looney Tunes or Disney movie, cartoon or comic, I don't own it. If you don't recognise it, but it bears a __**lot **__of similarities to some mix of the above, I don't own that either. The only things I could claim are the plot and two characters from the Toon-town side of things (Rocket & Roxy: Flying Foxes!) and I'm not getting anything for them (except the enjoyment of telling a story). Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy._

_**Some speech conventions:**_

"Normal speech".

"**SHOUTING!"**

"_Thinking..."_

«French»

§Parseltongue§

This is a response to whitetigerwolf's Harry Rabbit challenge.

Required:

- Harry is raised by Jessica Rabbit.

- Toons cannot, normally anyway, be part of the Wizard world (Cartoons being muggle and all that).

- Harry must attend Hogwarts.

- Harry cannot be involved in a M/M slash pairing.

Recomended:

- Jessica being a single mother to Harry (how is up to you).

- FemHarry (How many wizards do you think she'd give a heart attack to after being raised by Jessica?).

- Harry blood, or probably ink, adopted by Jessica (Picture toon Harry and how hard he'd be to kill).

- Jessica somehow (How is up to you, especially since I have no idea) being related to Lily.

- Lily actually being Jessica in disguise (Again, I have no idea how).

_It takes but a moment to change the face of the future, the thing that transforms fate and destiny can seem almost insignificant. A simple change in diet on one particular night, a tiny whim that chooses strawberry ice-cream over chocolate, for example. It doesn't seem like much, but it has an effect, nonetheless. A single microscopic cell moves a little slower, and is beaten to the goal by another, the same in almost every way, but one... Congratulations, Mrs Potter, it's a girl..._

**Chapter 1: A Most Implausible Occurrence.**

She was four years old, and frighteningly intelligent. She had taught herself to read last year, although her reading material consisted mostly of old Looney Tunes comics that Dudley had torn before throwing them away. Mostly, she was forced to read them in her cupboard under the stairs, late at night, with an old torch rescued from Dudley's 'broken stuff'. "_Honestly,_" she had thought to herself, "_My cousin is a bit of a berk. All I had to do was tighten the casing, and it worked fine._"

She wasn't entirely certain of her own name, although she was sure that her mummy wouldn't have named her 'Freak' or 'Girl'. And it was on this day that she asked her aunt several questions. She had to time it carefully, so Uncle Vernon (whose motto seemed to be 'don't ask, don't get a beating') was away at work for Grunnings Drills. Dudley was in the back yard with a magnifying glass and an anthill. He'd be busy for hours.

"Auntie," she asked, not trying for her aunt's full name, as she didn't want another punishment for calling her 'Patooey', "Why don't I have a mummy and daddy, like Dudley?"

The woman must have been in a good mood, looking at her niece's black hair and green eyes. "They died in a car crash, girl," she answered.

"What were they like?"

"Decidedly strange."

The girl mustered all her courage for the next questions. "Did they love me? What did they name me?"

Petunia Dursley looked into those vividly emerald orbs, so much like Lily's, and answered her niece honestly, for the first time. "Yes, they did," she said, unable to keep a tinge of vitriol from her terse, clipped tone. "And they gave you a horrid, long name: Angharad Jennifer Potter."

* * *

Angharad, she decided, was far too large a name for such a small child, at least for everyday use, not that the Dursleys would use it. Vernon had been heard to disparage it as "some filthy, foreign name", wondering why a good British name wasn't enough. Hari was the right length, she thought. Although she knew names were supposed to mean something more than just "hey, you", she found that Dudley believed hers meant "punching bag", a view that her walrus-like uncle fostered and encouraged.

She'd only known her name for a few days when Aunt Petunia decided she would have to "earn her keep", and started her in on chores, including cooking, with swats from a wooden spoon if she made a mistake. Hari learned that while she was cooking, she was somewhat safe from other retribution, unless it was from her uncle. Vernon Dursley blamed her for anything that went wrong, and even when things were going well, blamed her for them not being better. Even if there was no possible way for her to be involved.

* * *

The disappearance of the Dursleys' niece was _not_ good news. Their neighbours had noticed her, and although her presence was downplayed by that family, her absence called them into question rather severely. Especially since Vernon Dursley had to be committed to an asylum after his mental breakdown. He kept shouting, as they carried him away, **"****THE TV! SHE"S IN THE BLOODY TV!"**

The tall, thin man who arrived at Privet Drive shortly after that was most odd. For starters, he wore a purple, two-piece suit, complete with a dark green bowler hat. His beard was well-groomed, and easily reached his waist. Perhaps the strangest thing about him was that even though he should have stood out like a sore thumb, everyone, from the neighbours to the investigating officers of the law, completely ignored him as he walked among them.

This was Albus Dumbledore. Quietly taking Petunia aside, he soon discovered what had happened. Dudley was watching the cartoons, and as the Tom & Jerry episode gave way to an old Roger Rabbit show, he'd decided to re-enact the cartoon that had just finished, with his cousin filling in for whichever character had been on the wrong end of the stick. Vernon was laughing as his son chased Hari around the room with a rounders bat, and when the little girl had tripped, had egged the boy on. Then things got weird.

As Dudley struck, Hari had tried to escape, and fell towards the television. Seeing his beloved telly in danger, Vernon had leaped to his feet, shouting incoherently, as little Hari Potter released a very strong burst of what had to be accidental magic, a worrisome fact, given that Dumbledore himself had bound four fifths of the girl's magical core.

When Hari fell into the TV, she landed head-first, crying from the injuries, her lower body and legs sticking out of the screen. The undamaged screen. Then something happened that quite put Dudley off cartoons for life. As he brought the rounders bat down towards his cousin's leg, the white-furred arm of the cartoon character _reached out of the screen_ and grabbed his wrist in a yellow-gloved hand, pushing the boy back and spilling him to the floor. The other cartoon, a generously endowed redhead with blue eyes (who still reminded Petunia far too much of her sister Lily) had gathered the little girl in her arms, bringing the child completely _inside the television_! Then the rabbit had snatched Vernon's remote, stood back from the screen and pressed the button, whereupon the TV, not really meant to be turned off from the inside, had died, smoke escaping from the vents at the back.

As he left the Dursley home, Dumbledore was worried. With the muggles out of the big picture, he had no way to monitor and protect his investment. If he wanted Voldemort gone for good, he needed Angharad Potter. Blasted prophecy...

* * *

The city known as Toon-town was physically situated somewhere near Hollywood, California. For a given definition of physically. Which actually had little or nothing to do with physics, geography or even what passed for reality to most _normal_ people. It was midnight, and Roger and Jessica Rabbit were calling on another toon. Possibly the only one who would be able to help them. Knocking on his door had an owl poke his head out of the small door above the knocker and glare around, finally coming to rest, not just on the toon rabbit and his wife, but also on the four-year old girl sleeping in Jessica's arms.

"What on earth do you..." he began, as the little girl stirred and revealed a scar, a lightning bolt above her right eye. "Oh. Bugger." Archimedes was not happy. Turning around, he started yelling into the house. **"MERLIN! GET YOUR ARSE OUT OF BED! IT'S THAT KID YOU WERE WORRIED ABOUT!"** The grouchy familiar slammed the miniature door, just as a toon, a scrawny old man with a beard that reached his feet, wearing purple robes and wizard's hat, opened the door.

"Ah, yes, little Miss Potter," he said. Looking up at the two toons before him, he smiled. "Come in, my friends, I've been expecting this day. I was hoping it wouldn't arrive, but here we stand." Stepping back from the door, the world's greatest and most famous wizard invited the Rabbits inside.

* * *

**Seven years later...**

"Hari Rabbit," the anthropomorphic foxes yelled. They were toons, of course. Half the people Hari knew were toons. The foxes were Rocket and Roxy, her best friends, and they could fly, really fast. None of the foxes' parents were ready to see their kids in a cartoon yet, although come to that, neither was Hari's mother, Jessica. It had become a sore point between Jessica and Roger after a couple of years, and he'd thrown himself into his work (literally, these are toons we're talking about). Thanks to a magical adoption ceremony set up by Grandpa Merlin, as Hari called him, the child that the two toons had rescued was now herself, for all intents and purposes, as much a toon as they. Hari didn't just become a toon, however. She'd changed physically, gaining certain of Roger's traits, blended with Jessica's. Her hair remained black, but instead of a 'messy, every which way it could' hair style, it was a gorgeous fall of midnight that flowed down her back, stopping just shy of her black-tipped puff-ball tail. She was covered in white fur, fluffy to the touch, but sleek to the eye. Her rabbit's ears, black tipped, much as her tail was, were long and very expressive. Hari dressed as human teens and pre-teens did, jeans, sneakers and T-shirt, and took enough of her mother's nature to look good doing so. That isn't to say she wasn't who she was born, of course. Features from before her adoption remained, such as the scar on her brow. Then there was her magic.

Grandpa Merlin had explained to her that she wasn't just a little girl, nor would she be just a toon, before performing the ceremony. She was a witch. Once she learned how to harness it properly, she would be a very powerful one, too. Of course, he could teach her a few exercises, study techniques and such, to help prepare her for that day, but he couldn't actually teach her. On top of that, once she was adopted, she would have to get used to the silly-putty laws of reality toons inflicted on their surroundings.

As her friends caught up to her, the trio discussed such things as children of that age will discuss, school, sports, fashion and boys (Rocket refused to be drawn in on that one, and wasn't old enough to feel like commenting on girls). They arrived at Hari's house at the same time as a large mundane owl, which dropped a letter in her mailbox, then landed on it and waited.

Upon taking the letter from the mailbox, Hari revised her opinion of the owl. Rather than mundane, it was magical, a postal owl in fact. Turning to her friends, she sighed.

"This could take me awhile, guys," she said. "You should probably go on home without me."

"Not your fault, Hari," Roxy replied, as the two foxes flexed their legs, bending in preparation for jumping. "We'll see you tomorrow, though, won't we?"

"Likely not," she answered. "I've no idea what this is going to take, so I have to speak to Mom and Grandpa Merlin."

Rocket nodded. Her toon friends knew about Hari's magic, as Merlin had told her what to expect. It was dangerous to bind someone's magical core, as it was intimately connected with the soul and life force of the person who had it. On top of that, the toon wizard had been unable to unbind her. There were only two ways to unbind it, the first was if the binder were to release the block, and the other was for the blocked person to break out through the bindings themselves, a much riskier prospect, but not without rewards for the risks: a witch, for example, who shattered the bonds on her magical core tended to be more powerful than one who didn't 'exercise' their core. As she watched her friends launch themselves into flight(she always thought of it as falling with style, but they kept forgetting to hit the ground), Hari shook her hair and ears, trying to shake the feeling that she wouldn't see them again, and walked into the house.

Then she peeled herself off the wall, and went inside.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hari Rabbit: A Potter's Tail.**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ If you can recognise it as part of Harry Potter or any Looney Tunes or Disney movie, cartoon or comic, I don't own it. If you don't recognise it, but it bears a __**lot **__of similarities to some mix of the above, I don't own that either. The only things I could claim are the plot and two characters from the Toon-town side of things (Rocket & Roxy: Flying Foxes!) and I'm not getting anything for them (except the enjoyment of telling a story). Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy._

_**Some speech conventions:**_

"Normal speech".

"**SHOUTING!"**

"_Thinking..."_

«French»

§Parseltongue§

**Chapter 2: Anything Bigger has Right of Way.**

As she wandered towards the Leaky Cauldron, Hari mused over her experiences here in Britain. The weather was colder than she was used to, but then, she wasn't really bothered by it. She kept her ears tucked into her hair as best she could, her tail and fur hidden beneath her full-length coat and a pair of red woolen gloves. She couldn't do much about her feet, though. They just weren't suitable for any footwear that wasn't custom made. It was somewhat of a hassle, but it wasn't like anyone who saw her couldn't tell she was a toon. One of the few in all of the UK. She was here to meet the person who'd be taking her around to get her school supplies, one Rubeus Hagrid, according to the reply she'd gotten to her return letter. Dashing across the road, she had to keep an extra-cautious eye out for traffic. One of the downsides of being a Rabbit and a toon was the extremes of Narrative Causality, loosely meaning, 'because it was funny'. The sudden onslaught of vehicles on the road, for instance.

Dodging, spinning, jumping and narrowly evading collisions was almost second nature to her, and she would have made it across safely, except for the 'Public Transportation' clause. There was a bus. Therefore, she would be hit by it. As her eyes bulged out to three times their size, and her jaw dropped to her chest as she screamed, the bus driver hit the brakes. It didn't help, and she wound up buried in the Hari Rabbit-shaped hole in the grill as the bus screeched to a halt. Onlookers poured out of the surrounding buildings, including a few from the inn that had been her destination. A large man, at least ten feet tall, an older woman in an outfit that would have been the height of fashion fifty years ago, two contemporary mundanes (a man and a woman, their clothing gave them away as- what was that word, muggles?), and a girl with bushy hair who blended the features of the adult muggles so well she had to be their daughter. The bus had lost a hubcap, which rolled to the front of the vehicle and spun to a halt with the distinctive sound such things possess in a cartoon.

As the onlookers watched, a white-furred arm, with a red-gloved hand at the end, peeled itself out of the indentation in the vehicle's grill. Shaking the sleeve of her coat down the arm, Hari began a speech largely muffled by copious amounts of bus.

"Nothing up my sleeve," she declaimed. "Now watch me pull a Rabbit out of a bus!" So saying she began to suit word to deed, reaching into the hole in the bus and dragging herself out by the ears with a horrendous sucking sound that ended with a resounding POP! Holding herself up by the ears, with her legs tucked up to her fluffy tail, the toon rabbit-girl proceeded to show herself off to the crowd, and bowed at applause. As she did, she noticed she was two feet off the ground. She had enough time to think "_I __**HATE **__the first Law" _before she belly-flopped against the bitumen. The following silence was broken by the sound of a young girl, laughing until the tears poured down her face.

* * *

The oversized man turned out to be Rubeus Hagrid, who muttered something about needing a good stiff drink, to the agreement of the elderly witch, one Minerva McGonagall. As the two of them wandered over to the bartender to place their orders, Hari turned to the girl and her parents. The adults were both Doctor Granger, dentists from London, although Rick Granger was a fair bit older than his wife Evelyn. Their daughter was Hermione Jane Granger, and like her mother, an avid scholar. Unlike her parents, she was also a rabid fan of cartoons. All cartoons. Discovering that one of her future classmates was a toon was a dream come true for the bushy-haired child.

As the Hogwarts staff members returned, drinks in hand, discussing something about tasks and duties in low voices that they thought wouldn't be overheard, although they hadn't accounted for the way Hari's left ear tripled in size as she became interested. Hagrid sat on the floor, putting him at the right height for the table, while McGonagall took a seat next to Hermione's parents as the little witch pelted her new friend with question after question about what toons she knew. Amused by their daughter's non-stop queries, which hadn't even allowed Hari a chance to get a word in, Evie Granger reached over the table and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione, dear," she said. "Manners. You have to let your new friend introduce herself, don't you think?" The chocolate-brown eyes of her daughter widened.

"Oh my..." Hermione gasped. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, please go ahead..."

Hari grinned. "My name is Angharad Rabbit, from Toontown. Pleased to meet you. I'm supposed to be starting at Hogwarts this year." McGonagall and Hagrid looked at each other.

The witch was the first to speak. " I don't recall anyone of that name on the list, and I'm the Deputy Headmistress. I'm here for the next week or so to escort the first-time muggle-born students around Diagon Alley."

"Don' look at me," said Hagrid. "Professor Dumbledore tole me I was s'posed ta meet Hari Potter here. I hafta wait for her." The girl-toon laughed.

"I'm sorry," she chuckled, "but I haven't gone by _that_ name since I was four." Hermione giggled at the befuddlement on the adults' faces.

"So humans can become toons?" the bushy-haired girl asked. "How? What happens when they do? Does it hurt?" She stumbled to a halt as Hari laid a red-gloved finger across her lips.

"Whoa, girl," she replied. "It wasn't something anyone expected, you know. When Mom and Dad got me away from my relatives, they decided to adopt me, but they didn't know what to do, so they took me to Grandpa's and he told them about this ritual that would adopt me, but it required the mingling of blood. Well, ink in their case. Not even Grandpa thought I'd actually become a toon. Yes, it hurt, a lot, but it was worth it. If I wasn't a toon, I'd never have survived the bus outside. Of course, I probably wouldn't have needed to. Stupid Narrative Causality..."

* * *

It took the better part of twenty minutes for the adults to tease the full details of Hari's story from her. When she'd finished, Hagrid's faith in Dumbledore had taken quite a hit, and the Scottish witch was positively incensed on the child's behalf.

"I _told_ him!" she ranted. "I _said_ they were the worst sort of muggles!" Realising her current company, she hurried to correct any false impressions. "Don't worry, I know not all muggles are bad, but good luck convincing most of our society of that. But having heard young Hari's story, I am forced to wonder if she'd not have been better off with Sirius Black!" This last statement startled a gasp from the oversized gamekeeper.

"Sirius who?" asked Hari, her long ears twitching forwards, and her nose wriggling with curiosity. "Who's he?"

They were suddenly nervous then, the two adult magical folk at the table. It was a nasty silence, one that seemed filled with reluctance to speak. Finally, Professor McGonagall spoke. "Sirius Black was your father's best and most trusted friend, back when you were but a wee bairn." Her accent grew thicker as her emotions climbed in intensity. "I was there when yuir da asked him to be yuir godfather, an' when they performed tha ceremony that bound him as such, they were a' so joyous. But that Halloween, he betrayed them. He was their secret keeper, beholden tae guard their dwelling tae his dying gasp, enforced wi' a magic tha' wou' protect it sae only he cou' speak its location. An' when they were murdered, by a madman seeking yuir death, although on'y a bare han'fu' o us know why, sorry, but I'm nae one o' them. It had tae be him, there was naebody else they'd trust sae much." Minerva McGonagall broke down for a while then, weeping into her Firewhiskey. Hagrid had tears in his eyes as well.

"Are you sure?" Hari's soft voice was, strangely, easily made out, and caused her to be the instant centre of attention. "Grandpa told me about the various guardian bonds before I was adopted. Is this Black fellow still alive? Because if he is, then either he wasn't my godfather, or he didn't betray us. The godparent bond would have his magic pull him apart from the inside if he did."

Minerva was barely containing herself. "And who, lass, is this much vaunted 'Grandpa' o' your'n, tae know these things? Who is the man to gainsay Albus Dumbledore? The auld fool has made mistakes, aye, but he is still tha greatest wizard our world ha' seen since Merlin."

Confusion seemed to be the order of the day at this table, with Hermione and her parents watching like spectators at a tennis match, as an almost villainous smirk decorated Hari's face.

"What do you mean, 'since Merlin'?" she asked. "Grandpa's still going strong. Okay, so he's a toon now, but still..." There was a gleeful squeal as Hermione glomped the living daylights out of her new best friend.

"You have got to introduce me! Mum, Dad, is it okay if I visit Hari over the holidays? Do you want to come? Can we plan for it now? What about Disneyland, Warner Brothers, and Maroon Cartoons, can we go there?..." Hari quietly made plans to enlist Rocket and Roxy to help curb Hermione's enthusiasm, at least a little bit.

* * *

The first stop for all of them, once they'd settled Hermione down, was Gringotts. The goblins stared at Hari, apparently unable to reconcile her with any of their previous experiences and customers. Aside from a brief argument with Hagrid over the possession of her vault key, the girl-toon had no issues about the bank. While the Grangers were at one teller exchanging their currency with the assistance of Professor McGonagall and the goblins, not incidentally earning a good deal of respect for treating the short warrior-race as at least equals, Hari and her enormous escort travelled to her vault, then made another, more secretive stop at another vault, numbered 713. Here, Hagrid acquired a small package, a lumpy thing wrapped in old brown leather, before they returned to the lobby of the bank.

From there, the group proceeded to Madam Malkin's, where they were to procure the children's uniforms and robes. It was here that they (reluctantly) made the acquaintance of a platinum-blond boy who was receiving the final fittings on his robes. He was complaining about the fit as they entered. One look at Hermione's clothes had a sneer on his face as he drew in his breath to speak.

"It seems they'll let anyone shop in here, even mudbloods," he said. Outside, McGonagall and Hagrid stiffened at the horrid word. The Grangers, not knowing they were being insulted, failed to react in the desired manner.

Hari stared at the arrogant little snot. Grandpa Merlin had explained to her the phrase, and she stepped up to the brat, who reacted with a glare,and then startlement, as he noticed her toon features, and rabbit-ish traits. While he was somewhat gobsmacked at what looked to him like a drawing that had escaped its canvas, she measured him against those she knew.

"Excuse me," she said, more or less politely, "but could you please say 'consarn-ed fragnabbit varmint'?" When the befuddled pureblood scion did so, she shook her head, waving her ears behind her. "Nahh. You're not a Sam, you're a Marvin. Try 'where's the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom'."

Hermione was having a hard time controlling her laughter, and cracked up. The sneering blond, finally figuring out he was being mocked, threw down his new robes.

"Come, mother," he huffed. "This store is obviously not worthy of the patronage of the Malfoys." So saying, he stormed from the shop.

Flourish and Blotts was no great hassle, as filling out the booklists was a fairly simple task, although convincing Hermione that she didn't need the Hari Potter series of books, none of which matched the new Hari Rabbit, and were thus obvious works of fiction, was the hardest task they faced there. Hari did, however, suggest picking up the books for second year students so they could at least read ahead. Hari also had seen the list's allowance of one pet of certain prescribed types, and put her fuzzy little foot down. "If they're not a toon," she stated vehemently, "then I'll have trouble with an owl or cat, and I flatly refuse any form of toad." Hagrid seemed a little disappointed. After that was the apothecary and potion supplies store, and finally off to Ollivanders for their wands.

As they entered, the two adult magicals reminisced for a moment of the first time they'd set foot here, which had been on the same day, strangely enough. They remembered Garrick Ollivander's odd peculiarities, and weren't surprised when the old wandcrafter stepped from the shadows behind the girls with a creaky-voiced "Welcome to my store."

They were, however, extremely startled by the reaction of one Hari Rabbit, who launched straight up from a standing start. As Hermione broke into laughter again, from far above them, clinging to the rafters, they heard the girl-toon's complaints.

"I **HATE** the Fifth Law!"


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hari Rabbit: A Potter's Tail.**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ If you can recognise it as part of Harry Potter or any Looney Tunes or Disney movie, cartoon or comic, I don't own it. If you don't recognise it, but it bears a __**lot **__of similarities to some mix of the above, I don't own that either. The only things I could claim are the plot and two characters from the Toon-town side of things (Rocket & Roxy: Flying Foxes!) and I'm not getting anything for them (except the enjoyment of telling a story). Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy._

_I also do not lay claim to the 'Laws of Toon Physics' herein. They are not comprehensive, but they do fit those 'Laws' that the toons of my story are likely to let the rest of the world know about..._

_**Some speech conventions:**_

"Normal speech".

"**SHOUTING!"**

"_Thinking..."_

«French»

§Parseltongue§

**Chapter 3: The Laws of Physics, and Other Breakable Objects...**

Hermione Granger sat on the bench in her compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Looking down at the sheet of paper in her hand. Hari had given it to her once they'd finished their wand shopping, as they were parting ways outside the Leaky Cauldron. "If you're going to be my friend," she'd told the wild-haired witch, you're going to need to know these."

Arriving at King's Cross over an hour early meant that Hermione would have longer to wait, but it also meant she was able to choose a compartment from which to watch for her toon friend's own arrival. It was only five minutes after she'd taken her seat on the train that Hari reached her compartment. She promptly received a Hermi-hug (bone-crushing to most people) that quite squeezed the rabbit-toon out of shape.

"Oh, no," the little witch said, nervous at the crushed-in torso she'd left her friend with.

"No, no, no harm done." Hari's voice was oddly distorted, an almost mechanical squawk that came from trying to speak with the use of her lungs. Sure, toons didn't need them to breathe with, but they certainly came in handy for speaking. The toon-girl flamboyantly stuck her thumb in her mouth, then blew hard, puffing out her cheeks to a ridiculous degree, and the caved-in section of torso gradually popped outwards, rib by rib. Hermione's eyes widened, almost bulging out toon-style themselves.

"See, all better," said Hari. There was a little last-minute commotion as an entire family of red-heads barrelled onto the platform with barely enough time for the boys in it to board the train.

* * *

Hari's appearance attracted several curious Muggle-raised children, and by the time the Express left King's Cross, the compartment she and Hermione shared was filled with other first-year students. There was Hannah Abbott, her best friend Susan Bones, Terry Boot and Dean Thomas, and of them all, only Susan was unfamiliar with cartoons. As the train rattled Northwards, Hermione raised the sheet of paper. The words on it clearly spelled out what passed for physics around toons.

"Hari, could you explain some of these 'laws' to me?" she asked. "Some of them just don't make sense." The toon girl took the paper, and read off the contents.

* * *

_CARTOON PHYSICS: The basic 11 Laws._

_Cartoon Law I_

_-Any body suspended in space will remain in space until made aware of its situation._

_-A toon steps off a cliff, expecting further pastureland. He loiters in midair, soliloquizing flippantly, until he chances to look down. At this point, the familiar principle of 32 feet per second per second takes over._

Hermione interrupred her to comment. "That's the one from the Leaky Cauldron, isn't it?" Hari nodded before continuing.

_Cartoon Law II_

_-Any body in motion will tend to remain in motion until solid matter intervenes suddenly._

_-Whether shot from a cannon or in hot pursuit on foot, cartoon characters are so absolute in their momentum that only a telephone pole or an outsize boulder retards their forward motion absolutely. Sir Isaac Newton called this sudden termination of motion the stooge's surcease._

_Cartoon Law III_

_-Any body passing through solid matter will leave a perforation conforming to its perimeter._

_-Also called the silhouette of passage, this phenomenon is the speciality of victims of directed-pressure explosions and of reckless cowards who are so eager to escape that they exit directly through the wall of a house, leaving a cookie-cutout-perfect hole. The threat of skunks or matrimony often catalyzes this reaction._

"I saw that at the Cauldron, too," the bushy-haired witch mused, "in the front of the bus that hit you." The others in the compartment stared at Hari, who sheepishly nodded. She didn't look like she'd been hit by a bus.

_Cartoon Law IV_

_-The time required for an object to fall twenty stories is greater than or equal to the time it takes for whoever knocked it off the ledge to spiral down twenty flights to attempt to capture it unbroken._

_-Such an object is inevitably priceless, the attempt to capture it inevitably unsuccessful._

_Cartoon Law V_

_-All principles of gravity are negated by fear._

_-Psychic forces are sufficient in most bodies for a shock to propel them directly away from the earth's surface. A spooky noise or an adversary's signature sound will induce motion upward, usually to the cradle of a chandelier, a treetop, or the crest of a flagpole. The feet of a character who is running or the wheels of a speeding auto need never touch the ground, especially when in flight._

_"_It took you ten minutes to stop laughing over that one in Ollivander's," Hari broke off to mention. "Then it took another hour to get our wands."

_Cartoon Law VI_

_-As speed increases, objects can be in several places at once._

_-This is particularly true of tooth-and-claw fights, in which a character's head may be glimpsed emerging from the cloud of altercation at several places simultaneously. This effect is common as well among bodies that are spinning or being throttled._

_-A wacky character has the option of self-replication only at manic high speeds and may ricochet off walls to achieve the velocity required._

_Cartoon Law VII_

_-Certain bodies can pass through solid walls painted to resemble tunnel entrances; others cannot._

_-This trompe l'oeil inconsistency has baffled generations, but at least it is known that whoever paints an entrance on a wall's surface to trick an opponent will be unable to pursue him into this theoretical space._

_-The painter is flattened against the wall when he attempts to follow into the painting. This is ultimately a problem of art, not of science._

_-Corollary: Portable holes work._

_Cartoon Law VIII_

_-Any violent rearrangement of feline matter is impermanent._

_-Cartoon cats possess even more deaths than the traditional nine lives might comfortably afford. They can be decimated, spliced, splayed, accordion-pleated, spindled, or disassembled, but they cannot be destroyed. After a few moments of blinking self pity, they reinflate, elongate, snap back, or solidify._

_-Corollary: A cat will assume the shape of its container, provided said container is of a strange shape, or equal or smaller in size than the cat. This law also applies to coyotes._

_Cartoon Law IX_

_-Everything falls faster than an anvil. (A falling anvil will always land directly upon the character's head, regardless of the time gap between the body's and the anvil's respective drops.)_

_Cartoon Law X_

_-For every vengeance there is an equal and opposite revengeance._

_-This is the one law of animated cartoon motion that also applies to the physical world at large. For that reason, we need the relief of watching it happen to a duck instead._

_Cartoon Law XI_

_-Any vehicle on a path of travel is at a state of indeterminacy until an object enters a location in the path of travel. (A toon walks into road and gets run over by a bus.)_

_Cartoon Law Amendment A_

_-A sharp object will always propel a character upward._

_-When poked (usually in the buttocks) with a sharp object (usually a pin), a character will defy gravity by shooting straight up, with great velocity._

_Cartoon Law Amendment B_

_-The laws of object permanence are nullified for "cool" characters._

_-Characters who are intended to be "cool" can make previously nonexistent objects appear from behind their backs at will. For instance, the Road Runner can materialize signs to express himself without speaking._

_Cartoon Law Amendment C_

_-Explosive weapons cannot cause fatal injuries._

_-They merely turn characters temporarily black and smokey._

_Cartoon Law Amendment D_

_-Gravity is transmitted by slow-moving waves of large wavelengths._

_-Their operation can be wittnessed by observing the behavior of a canine suspended over a large vertical drop. Its feet will begin to fall first, causing its legs to stretch. As the wave reaches its torso, that part will begin to fall, causing the neck to strech. As the head begins to fall, tension is released and the canine will resume its regular proportions until such time as it strikes the ground._

* * *

"I don't see how I could make these clearer," Hari said. "Not without a good demonstration, and I don't have a toon cat or coyote to show off some of these. Hmm..."It was at this point that one of the red-heads who'd almost missed the train opened the door. Poking his head into the compartment and quickly glancing around, it was obvious when he noticed Hari's scar... and ears. Staring oddly at them, he spoke up.

"Is there any room in here," he asked, not really paying attention, as Hari moved her ears around, and his gaze followed them. "Everywhere else is full..."

The toon rabbit laid her ears straight back in anger, her eyes sparkling like emeralds filled with lightning, and the stranger found himself staring straight into a bright green thunderstorm. "In case you hadn't noticed," she said, "so is this compartment. You may as well keep looking, there's no room here."

The redhead was suddenly pushed aside to reveal the blond boy from Madam Malkin's, along with two large-for-eleven-years-old boys that put her in mind of Uncle Taz. Savage, strong and stupid. They obviously deferred to the brat in front of them.

The boy glared around. " I heard that Harry Potter's going to be at Hogwarts this year," he sneered. "I don't suppose any of you have seen him?"This was too good on opportunity. "You're standing on him," she said with a huge grin. As the blond looked down, as did his 'bodyguards', she declared "I_ love_ Amendment 'B'!", as she pulled an oversized mallet from her sleeve, where it had shown no indication of being before she removed drove the mallet in an underhand swing, not unlike a golf club, making three complete swings, yelling out "Fore! Five! Six!" as she literally hammered Draco and his friends out of the compartment, before putting away the mallet (which vanished back up her sleeve as easily and tracelessly as it had appeared), turning and taking a bow, to the applause of everyone there. It was Susan Bones who raised a caution.

"That was Draco Malfoy, you know," she said. "His dad swings some political power in the Wizengamot, so he could cause you some trouble, if you're not careful." Hari looked sideways at the redheaded girl. "My auntie is the head of the DMLE, that's the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and she says the name Malfoy is synonymous with criminal."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hari Rabbit: A Potter's Tail.**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ If you can recognise it as part of Harry Potter or any Looney Tunes or Disney movie, cartoon or comic, I don't own it. If you don't recognise it, but it bears a __**lot **__of similarities to some mix of the above, I don't own that either. The only things I could claim are the plot and two characters from the Toon-town side of things (Rocket & Roxy: Flying Foxes!) and I'm not getting anything for them (except the enjoyment of telling a story). Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy._

_I also do not lay claim to the 'Laws of Toon Physics' herein. They are not comprehensive, but they do fit those 'Laws' that the toons of my story are likely to let the rest of the world know about..._

_**Some speech conventions:**_

"Normal speech".

"**SHOUTING!"**

"_Thinking..."_

«French»

§Parseltongue§

**Chapter 4: Hare-Raising Situations.**

The rest of the train ride was fairly peaceful, and the girls found themselves sharing a boat as they drifted across the lake. It was relatively enjoyable, and as they rounded the point of the lake, all four drew breath in awe. "It's a magnificent sight, isn't it?" Hermione asked. Hari just nodded, brushing at her shoulder where someone had tapped on it. Looking at the others who were staring past her with dropped jaws, Hari realised that she was at the edge of the last boat, and none of them could have reached _that_ shoulder, as they were all on the wrong side of her. Gulping, she turned to follow their gaze.

It was the giant squid. To be exact, it was one of the squid's spade-tipped tentacles, and the spade was roughly the same size as the boat they were in. Hari's toon nature sprang into action.

Screaming loudly as the spade folded to wave at them, Hari leaped into the air without disturbing the boat at all, stiff as a board and ramrod straight, ears extended to their full length above her head, her eyes bugged out before her and her jaw somewhere around her waist. Their was a snapping sound like a released rubber band, and the girls in the boat turned from the Hari-shaped cloud of dust the rabbit-girl had left behind as she bolted, running across the surface of the water in shock.  
Hermione, having had a little more experience at this sort of occurrence, was the first to recover, looking down at the paper she took from her pocket. "I think that was a Five," she said, and the others agreed.

* * *

Hari was 'breathing' hard, panting and gasping theatrically, as the boats drifted in to the concealed dock at the base of Hogwarts. As her new friends from the train gathered around her, some giggling over her panicked dash, she straightened with a final deep breath. The first years proceeded up the stairs until they reached the antechamber to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall was waiting for them. Under the charge of the formidable witch, they were led into the Great Hall. There, a stool waited in a cleared space at the head of the massive room, with a tattered hat sitting on it. As they waited, it burst into song enumerating the Houses and their virtues. Finally, McGonagall began calling them forth to be sorted. Hannah and Susan, first to be called, found themselves in Hufflepuff, and Hari whispered to Hermione.

"Hard work and loyalty, I can think of worse things. You've got to admit, all that learning is going to be very hard work indeed, and so is putting it all to proper use."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, and by the time the hat descended on her head, although it took a few minutes, Hari wasn't surprised when the bushy-haired witch went to the House of Badgers. Then there were several others and... the Potter name wasn't called. Everyone was puzzled by that, particularly Professor Dumbledore. This _was _the year Hari Potter was supposed to be here, yes?

It was shortly after that that the mystery was resolved, as McGonagall called out "Rabbit-Potter, Angharad", and Hari stepped forward. The hat came down on her head, and once more the unexpected occurred, as the hat kept descending, until Hhari had disappeared inside the relic of magical millinery.

"I SAY," shouted the Hat, "HUFFLEPUFF!" Continuing in less strident tones the hat went on. "Now get out, I can't sort anyone else while you're in there."

A muffled voice echoed from the depths of the hat. "_can't. I'm lost._"

At the Hufflepuff Table, Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, and stood, walking over to the startled Professor and the hat. "Honestly, don't any of you know what magicals have to do to get a rabbit out of a hat?" She reached into the depths of the hat, whose only response was an ongoing set of instructions.

"Up a bit, now left a smidgen, just a bit further, THERE!"

"Have I got Hari?" the witchling asked.

"No," the hat replied, "but I've had an itch there ever since I sorted Godric."

Again the voice echoed out of the hat. "_sleeves._"

Remembering the incident with the bus, Hermione muttered as she dumped her robe on the floor and looked at the sleeve of her shirt. Now, how did that moose pull his squirrel friend out?

"Nothing up my sleeve," she declared, tearing the sleeve from her shirt and throwing it aside. She then reached into the hat once more, rummaging through its depths. As she pulled things from the hat and discarded them, she was the centre of attention from the entire, silent hall. "Sword, nope. Swordfish, nope. Grenade, nope." The explosive went off by the Slytherin table, and laughter began to slowly fill the Hall as the soot-covered snakes blinked twice. "Five galleons, finder's fee. Axe, that's not it. Dragon, uhh, no." She hastily pushed the dragon's head back into the hat after it gave a gout of fire that brightened the Hall considerably. Unfortunately, the grease in Professor Snape's hair ignited, and the man fled the Hall screaming for water, pursued by a Slytherin prefect yelling "_Aguamenti_", which only made it worse. Finally, Hermione dragged Hari from the hat, by her ears, naturally, with a loud "TAH-DAH!" and a bow, which of course attracted vast applause and laughter, even from Professor Quirrel, who laughed so hard he had some kind of seizure, that required Madam Pomfrey to remove him to the Hospital Wing.

Luckily, the rest of the sorting was nowhere as eventful.

* * *

After Hari's hat-related incident, even the headmaster's 'few words' didn't rate a mention, especially at the Hufflepuff table. When Madam Pomfrey returned to the Great Hall, and whispered _something_ to Dumbledore, the old wizard spat his pumpkin juice half way down the hall. Luckily, that space was empty. Rising to his feet, he spoke.

"If I could have your attention, please," Dumbledore announced, with true and sincere regret. "It seems that Professor Quirrel's seizure was far more dangerous than realised, and as a result, DADA classes will be covered by other teachers until we can arrange a new professor for that post. If we could have a moment of silence for his passing, please... thank you. While I have your attention, the Forbidden Forest is, as its name implies Forbidden, and that is so for a reason. First-year students are advised to stay away from it due to the many hazardous creatures that dwell there. Older students have already received this warning a number of times. Mr Filch has the full and annotated list of contraband on the wall outside his office, as well as several yards down the hall. That is all." He seemed a bit grumpy, as if several of his plans had gone awry, and didn't even bother with the school song. As the prefects led the various students back to their dorms, he sat and contemplated the problems of Hari Rabbit-Potter and her friends.

That night, in the Hufflepuff dormitories, which were comfortably warm from their proximity to the kitchens, Hari, Hermione, Hannah and Susan spoke quietly, discussing what had happened. "If that's what happens," Hari said firmly, "then I am _never_ going near any form of magical headgear again!"

The laughter of the other Hufflepuff girls was music to her oversized ears.

* * *

The next morning saw the new class schedules handed out, and all the girls were busy preparing for the day by packing their bookbags with everything they needed. "We really need a purse that's bigger on the inside than the outside," Hermione complained. "One we can just grab what we need from at a moment's notice."

"So design one," Hari replied, as they walked into their first class room of the day, Potions with the Ravenclaws, and were greeted by a very bald Professor Snape. The shiny, unnaturally smooth skin of the man's scalp was obviously scarring from the burns he'd suffered, and some of the students were having trouble hiding their laughter. After putting down their bags by the table they'd be using, the toon-girl and her bushy-haired friend quietly made their way to the front of the class. The formerly greasy-haired professor eyed them with a vicious sneer.

"What do you want, Potter?" he growled. He'd obviously made up his mind about her, and didn't look like the kind who'd forgive easily. He was somewhat surprised, although he concealed it well, when the two girls bowed their heads as Hari spoke.

"Sir, I'm sorry you got caught in the incident with the Sorting Hat last night. I wanted you to understand that, as a toon, I don't always have full control over what happens near me. I really doubt anyone could have expected so many things to have been inside the hat, let alone that dragon. I wish that it hadn't happened, and I'd like to offer you this as an apology." She placed a jar on the table. The label announced it to be ACME brand Hair-gro tonic. "You've really got to be careful using it, as it's in a concentrated form. Uncle Elmer tried some once and we needed a fleet of ride-on mowers to keep his hair under control until it stopped growing. The instructions are on the jar." The two witches then returned to their table, leaving behind a Snape so bemused as to forget to be mean to anyone for the entire day.

* * *

The next class was Transfiguration, which they shared with the Gryffindors, and the well-prepared 'puffs were in place early. On the desk was a tabby cat, sitting with dignity. Although Hermione wanted to go over and pet it, having something of a soft spot for cats, her rabbit-girl friend managed to convince her otherwise. "Look, Professor McGonagall's not here yet," called the redhead boy from the train, Ron Weasley, Hari thought. With him were two other Gryffindor boys, a little after the class bell had rung. "I told you Seamus, Dean, she's a real pussycat about being late..."

Everyone in the class was startled when the 'real pussycat' turned out to have been the tabby on the desk, as she sprang from her seat, and transformed in midair. As she was berating the lack of punctuality from the boys, Hermione turned to her friend. "That was wicked, I wonder if she'll teach us how to do... Hari?" the young witch waved her hand through the Hari-shaped dust cloud, then looked up. Hari didn't respond well to surprises, it seemed, as she was clinging to the ceiling with her fingers and toes. "Hari, class is in session, stop showing off Law five and get down here."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hari Rabbit: A Potter's Tail.**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ If you can recognise it as part of Harry Potter or any Looney Tunes or Disney movie, cartoon or comic, I don't own it. If you don't recognise it, but it bears a __**lot **__of similarities to some mix of the above, I don't own that either. The only things I could claim are the plot and two characters from the Toon-town side of things (Rocket & Roxy: Flying Foxes!) and I'm not getting anything for them (except the enjoyment of telling a story). Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy._

_I also do not lay claim to the 'Laws of Toon Physics' herein. They are not comprehensive, but they do fit those 'Laws' that the toons of my story are likely to let the rest of the world know about..._

_**Some speech conventions:**_

"Normal speech".

"**SHOUTING!"**

"_Thinking..."_

«French»

§Parseltongue§

**Chapter 5: The Reasons for Flight.**

Hari got the feeling she was being followed. Every time she turned around, there would be a red-haired boy ducking out of sight. Even Hermione had noticed. "It's that Ron Weasley boy," she said in exasperation as they were walking to their flying lesson that Saturday. "What does he want with you, anyway?"

"He probably wants to eat me," Hari answered, her matter-of-fact tone quite a surprise to her friend. Hermione's jaw dropped, and she spluttered for a moment.

"Hari! How can you be so calm? We're _way_ too young for that sort of thing!" The bushy-haired brunette's shock had her face pale.

"Huh? What are you talking... Oh." Hari blushed. "No, no, I didn't mean it _that_ way. You're right, and he's not my type anyway. No, no, no. Ew. How to say it? I meant 'eat me' as in pepper and salt, ketchup, knife and fork. You've got to admit, this has to be more rabbit meat than most people can dream of eating." Her waving her hand at herself emphasised her words, and it was Hermione's turn to blush.

"I'm sorry, I jumped to a conclusion. I should have asked what you meant first," she said sheepishly. A few minutes passed in silence before she spoke again. "What did you mean, not your type?"

"Hermione, we're not even teenagers yet, but I'm fairly sure I don't play for that team," Hari replied. Hermione thought about that for a few moments, blushing again, as Hari continued. "Besides, I'm still rated PG-13, and I don't want to be an M-15 until I'm older." Their other friends laughed as they emerged onto the Quidditch pitch.

* * *

Rolanda Hooch was an excellent teacher when it came to flying, the incident earlier that day with young Longbottom notwithstanding. Her instructions were simple and easy to understand if the students paid attention, and once she'd gotten back and dealt with Weasley and Malfoy arguing over the poor boy's Remembrall, the lesson had gone well. Now she had to teach the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, who didn't usually have anywhere near as strong a rivalry.

As the students lined up at the admittedly old and worn school brooms (where her requests for better equipment for the children's safety went, she had no idea), and called for their brooms with a simple "UP!", she counted those who managed it first try. Abbott, Bones and Finch-Fletchley managed it among the Badgers, and Li, Patil and Boot for the Eagles, but none of them quite possessed Rabbit-Potter's flair, as her broom literally leaped into the air like an over-eager puppy and circled her twice before she got a hold of it. No sooner had she laid her red-gloved hand on the shaft than the broom took off at high speed, a speed that these old brooms should not have been capable of.

All eyes went to Hari as she face-palmed with her left hand, her right arm stretching out like elastic. "Why didn't I see this comiiiiiiinnnnggggg?!" Her voice stretched out as her arm snapped back to its intended length, dragging her to the broom as it powered through the sky, finally responding as she hauled herself into its saddle. Once she was there, she found she could understand exactly why Rocket and Roxy loved their unique ability so much. If flying was this much fun on a broom, how much better would it be unencumbered?

This train of thought lasted exactly until her broom swooped through one of the Quidditch hoops, clotheslining the rabbit-girl on the top of said hoop. She spun around and around by her neck, pinwheeling as the broom continued to rocket along until she fell. Shortly afterwards, the other students were looking at a Hari Rabbit shaped hole in the Quidditch pitch. Hermione was the first to reach the toon's side, as she sat up, half out of the hole, with little brooms racing around her head, accompanied by tiny stars.

"Are you okay?" she asked, anxious for her friend. Of course as a toon, this sort of thing was meant to be Hari's basic daily grind, but she was allowed to worry. As Hari turned to her, swaying slightly and eyes unfocused, she knew it was unnecessary.

"Which of the four of you cuties is asking?" Hari said, and collapsed back into the hole.

* * *

By the time Hari had dragged herself from the hole, with Hermione assisting her and brushing away the little stars and broomsticks from around the toon-girl's head, it seemed her broom had realised it no longer had a rider, as it was hovering nearby, somehow managing to contrive a sheepish look to it. Madam Hooch glared at it. Brooms just _didn't do that_. Hari was pointedly ignoring the broom, which almost pouted, (no-one could guess _how_ they knew it was pouting, just that the broom gave off a sulky air) and tried drifting around in front of her, to the students amusement.

"Alright," muttered Hari, as if the broom had won her over with its 'kicked puppy' attitude, to the amusement of the rest of the class. "I forgive you. But it better not happen again." The rest of the lesson was luckily less eventful.

* * *

From up in the castle, a bitter angry wraith watched the events on the Quidditch pitch. In taking this host, it had little time for the finesse it needed to maintain the host's soul and psyche, so it had simply overpowered the mind already in place, absorbing the child's very soul and magic into its own, burning out the very essence that had once been there. In truth there hadn't been much resistance, and the last thing the fragile soul of the weakling whose mind he'd destroyed in order to survive could only cry out as it disappeared forever. "When my father hears of this..."

* * *

Quirrel's replacement arrived a week before Halloween. He had all four classes in the same period, and the rumours that reached the first-years were that he was a much better teacher than Quirrel ever had been. It was two days before they got to learn why. As the first-years for all four Houses shuffled into the DADA classroom, to be greeted by a very odd image indeed.

The room was set up like an amphitheatre, with the professor's desk to one side of the stage at the base of the room. The door by which they entered was on the other side of that very stage, and the teacher's quarters were accessed by the door behind his desk. But the thing that attracted all attention was the chair. It was crafted of solid black oak, and possessed a high back that had a railing on top of it, gouged and scarred as though by talons. They knew those marks were made by talons, because said talons belonged to the deep brown, almost black, bird of prey that perched there. It was a good three feet tall, and they would have guessed its wingspan to be around six feet, and its tail had a wedge-like shape to it. As they entered, the eagle keened, a long high screech, that had Hari shaking with some deep-rooted urge to flee, fast, zig-zagging for all she was worth. Only the fact that everyone else froze kept her from bolting.

The door on the far side of the stage opened, and the teacher emerged. Their first thought was of relief, but the man's appearance halted that quickly. He was fairly tall, just shy of six feet, with broad shoulders and a warrior's build. He wore a odd garment similar to a greatcoat, although crafted from a black scaly leather, and a grey felt hat with a wide brim. As he removed the hat and laid it on the desk, they saw his face beneath the raven-black hair that he wore in a tight horse-tail. He was weather-beaten, that was the only word for it. His skin was tanned and almost leathery from working outdoors, and his eyes were like piercing sapphires. What really grabbed their attention was the scar. Hari unconsciously touched her own scar in sympathy as she followed the line of the teacher's old injury as it crossed his eye on its downward journey from his hairline to his jaw on the right side of the man's face. "_How did that _not_ take out his eye?_" she wondered, along with every other child in the class by the murmuring that broke out around her.

As the eagle keened again, there was a sudden silence, which their new professor broke.

"G'day, class," he said in a broad Australian accent. "Don't mind Antilles there, he's just a big softy." As the eagle contrived to look affronted, they all heard the distinct tones of Ron Weasley.

"Soft? That thing's soft? Compared to what, solid steel?" Nervous laughter followed, and the teacher shook his head.

"Naah," he said. "Since he became my familiar, he's mellowed quite a bit. Just don't poke about him too close and you'll be right. Unless you're a rabbit." He paused as his eyes swept across the front line of students. "Oh, crud. You there, the rabbit-girl, what's your name? Come here, we'd better get this outta the way."

Hari approached nervously, mumbling her name without ever taking her eyes off the wicked beak and talons of the professor's familiar.

"That's a good start," the scar-faced teacher said. "You're showing respect to his weapons and pride as a hunter, but you're gunna need to stop shaking. Eagles can be really formal critters, and you'll need to bow, introduce yourself by your full name, and try not to be scared." As he stepped forwards to stand beside her he spoke to the massive bird. "Antilles, this person is a student, not prey, got it?"

As the toon-girl bowed, still not looking away from the eagle, she tried to control herself. That was hard work. "My name is Angharad Jennifer Rabbit-Potter, honoured to meet you."

"Very good, Miss Rabbit-Potter," the teacher said. "You may all take your seats now."

As the children found places to sit in the amphitheatre, their new teacher took what looked to be a strip of meat from a brown paper bag in his pocket and fed it to his familiar. He then took out his wand and waved it at a piece of chalk that began to write on the blackboard in large letters they could all make out quite easily.

"Okay, let's start at the top, right?" He again glanced over the class. "My name is Charles Daemon Vaughn, and this is your Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Either that or you are as lost as a polar bear in the Outback. To begin with we have to learn what constitutes the Dark Arts. Not the actual spells, just what classifies them as Dark. Anyone?"

Hermione of course had her hand up, as did a few others, and their teacher called on the bushy-haired witch. "Professor Vaughn, isn't the definition of Dark Arts up to the Ministry of Magic?"

The man smiled. "Good point, Miss..." here he glanced at a folder on his desk, "Granger, is it? Yes the Ministry defines what is Dark magic, but what I'm asking for is the criteria from which they do this."

"Isn't it magic that is intended solely to harm another?" Piped up an Asian-looking Ravenclaw.

"That's rather narrow, but close," Professor Vaughn answered. "The current definition is as follows, write this down." A few moments passed as the students all scrambled for quills and books. "The Dark Arts include magic and rituals that only cause the detriment of another as either the price of the magic or the end result. There are far more spells and rituals that are _not_ Dark than are. The Ministry does have a list, but access to it requires Senior Auror status or higher. How does this affect you? Well it's difficult to learn to defend against these spells if you don't know what they're like, so I'll be teaching you all to treat any spell sent in your direction that you can't recognize as potentially Dark. You all know so few spells that you wouldn't know the difference between a Sealing Charm and a Defenestrating Curse." He looked around at them. He pointed to the Gryffindor seated next to Ron, one Seamus Finnegan, if Hari's memory served her.

"You there, you're attacked by an adult wizard you've never seen, what do you do?" he demanded.

Seamus blinked and thought. "First I shield, and then..."

He was cut off by Professor Vaughn's abrupt dimissal. "Wrong! You're dead! You!" His finger pointed directly at Hermione, who pondered. "Dodge him and..."

"Wrong! You're Dead! You!" The professor went through half the class like this. By the time he pointed at Neville Longbottom, the students were getting somewhat upset. "Well, Mr Longbottom? What do you do?"

Neville scrunched up his face. "I run away," he mumbled, and most of the class broke into laughter. The teacher's glare and Antilles' screech brought silence in short order.

"That's the right answer, Mr Longbottom. You get to live," Professor Vaughn said gently. "When you know nothing about who or what you're fighting, you're in the wrong fight. So you remove yourself from the fight. Only if you can't get away should you turn to the other tactics suggested. Alright, that's it for today, and fifteen points to Gryffindor, Mr Longbottom. Next class will meet on the Quidditch pitch, don't wear robes, you'll have your outfits by that class. Dismissed."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hari Rabbit: A Potter's Tail.**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ If you can recognise it as part of Harry Potter or any Looney Tunes or Disney movie, cartoon or comic, I don't own it. If you don't recognise it, but it bears a __**lot **__of similarities to some mix of the above, I don't own that either. The only things I could claim are the plot and two characters from the Toon-town side of things (Rocket & Roxy: Flying Foxes!) and I'm not getting anything for them (except the enjoyment of telling a story). Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy._

_I also do not lay claim to the 'Laws of Toon Physics' herein. They are not comprehensive, but they do fit those 'Laws' that the toons of my story are likely to let the rest of the world know about..._

_I also do not own or claim any of the song 'Cartoon Heroes' by AQUA. That's theirs alone, even if I used some words from it to get Hari's point across._

_**Some speech conventions:**_

"Normal speech".

"**SHOUTING!"**

"_Thinking..."_

«French»

§Parseltongue§

**Chapter 6: Charms, Herbology, Troll.**

As the weeks flew by, Hari and Hermione became inseparable. The two of them were rocketing through their classes, and seemed set to take the top two spots in their year, academically. It helped that they had competent teachers (Professor Vaughn was firm, but everyone loved his lessons, and Snape was being _mostly_ neutral after Hari's gift), but the fact was that with a friend who shared so much, even if one was a toon and the other just watched them, made learning that much more fun. Before they knew it, it was October, and Halloween was only a few days off.

Despite being a toon, Hari had always known she wasn't born that way, and didn't like the big to-do that always surrounded the holiday in Toon-town. She'd received and written enough letters to Rocket and Roxy that the postal owls (she always got Professor McGonagall to send them: rabbits and owls do not usually get along well) must have been exhausted... or that's what she thought until she and her bushy-haired friend discovered the International Postage Protocols in a History of Magic text. Who knew?

Despite Hari's lack of enthusiasm for the day itself, as it was the anniversary of her natural parents deaths, Halloween always managed to be a major event for the rabbit-girl. The whole TV thing that had first brought Jessica and Roger to her rescue was on Halloween, and then there was the first time she'd been hit by a car... since becoming a toon, fortunately. Sadly, her adopted parents also split up on a Halloween, but good or bad, it was always eventful.

* * *

Charms class that morning was an example. The two of them were split up by professor Flitwick to help with the Gryffindors who weren't quite getting it right. The part-goblin professor, unlike most of his House, held no grudge against them for outshining his Eagles, since they worked hard and sweated (figuratively and literally... Herbology was _not_ for the lazy) to get there. This meant that Hermione was next to Ron Weasley, and Hari was sandwiched between the ginger and her partner for the day, Seamus Finnegan. She was fairly certain the Irish wizard's thick accent was hindering his magic, and was working him through it one syllable at a time. The boy must have had cluricaune blood in him for as much to go wrong around him as did. Or maybe he was a very small part toon... For now, though, the day had been uneventful...

Ron was reading something as they got ready for class, something everyone who'd had even the mildest contact with him had trouble believing, and the boy was the target of more than a few double- and even triple-takes. Then Hari caught a glimpse of the title, and a shudder went down her spine. _1001 Recipes for Rabbit._

"What's wrong, Hari?" Hermione asked, concerned. Hari pointed at the weighty tome that obscured their view of the uncouth redhead.

"That is one of the most _vile, disgusting, _**_horrendous_** books that humans have ever printed," she declared in ringing tones of righteous outrage. "It's a... a... _cookbook_, filled only with recipes for..." another shudder travelled from her toes to her ears, and everyone in the classroom (except Ron, natch) saw it, "..._rabbit,_" she hissed, as the majority of the class broke into laughter.

Only six people didn't laugh. Hari, because she didn't think it was that funny (she didn't have a Daffy to play Bugs against, yet), Hermione, Susan and Hannah, because they were her friends (and didn't think it was funny to joke about or seriously consider eating a friend), Professor Flitwick, because it was his job to teach (he could see the funny side, but really thought it needed a duck, or a bald man with a rifle and a speech impediment, or both) and the ever oblivious Ron Weasley.

Things didn't get much better during class, either. While Hari was coaching Seamus with the levitating charm, she could hear the redhead mispronounce the incantation, and she heard Hermione's response to his wand technique. "Stop it, Weasley! You'll have someone's eye out... too late. Sorry, Hari." The rabbit-girl snatched her right eye from Ron's desk and gave him a one-eyed glare that promised severe pain as she polished it clean on her robe and popped it back into her head. By now, she knew she was Madam Pomfrey's favourite student... she never met the mediwitch except when helping others!

Ron was belligerent. "If you're so clever, Ravenpuff, you do it!" His epithet for the intelligent Hufflepuffs was his own invention, but the insult kind of fell flat when Hermione and Hari thanked him and started calling themselves and their smartest friends Ravenpuffs, to the amusement of all the Heads of House. Hermione shrugged lifted her wand, and cast. Swish and Flick and "_Wingardium leviosa!_" The feather didn't budge. Ron on the other hand, lifted out of his seat an drifted around the classroom as she directed with her wand.

"Impressive work Miss Granger, but while it is impressive," said Professor Flitwick sternly, gesturing at the unmoving feather, "I believe the point of the exercise was to levitate the feather."

"Yes, professor," Hermione said as she continued Ron's tour of the ceiling. "But I thought the lesson might stick better if I lifted the feathers from Weasley's brain first." She lowered the angry redhead on the far side of the classroom from his wand.

Hari heard Seamus' attempt at the spell a little too late to do more than blink and wipe off the soot. "Win-garr-dee-oom leh-vee-yo-ser!" [WHUMP!]

"I think we need another feather, sir."

* * *

The afternoon class had them in Greenhouse two with the Slytherins. Hari did not find this happy-making. True, most of the plants they were working with that day were harmless, but you had to be careful of such plants as the Nights-rest, a thorn-covered vine whose barbs yielded a potent additive for sleeping draughts, and the Fanged Geraniums which made for very decorative carnivorous security.

Draco had his bookend bodyguards with him, as usual, at least until professor Sprout split them up, partnering them with other students who could help them learn. Draco was partnered with Miss Parkinson, who would have been Pansy to her friends... if she had had any. There was a momentary lapse in the teacher's attention, a subtle banishing charm and voila! Lord Voldemort wins...

The first Hermione knew of her friend's predicament was the incoherent urk as she was dragged into the fanged Geranium's gaping maw. Turning to where the toon should have been she saw her first and best friend's feet sticking out of a greatly distended Geranium, and heard muffled cries for help. Intellectually, she knew Hari couldn't really be hurt by this. _Intellectually_, she knew Professor Sprout was the person to handle this, both in knowledge and experience. Then her emotions got involved, and the deep loyalty that the Badgers were renowned for caught fire as she reached to the table behind her (there was a jolt as her elbow caught the possessed Draco in the solar plexus and sent him tumbling backwards into the Night's-rest patch) and grabbed a vine runner, a long shaft of wood as thick as her own thumb. Even as the Night's-rest, also called Slumbervine, lashed out around it before cocooning Draco, leaving the girl with more than a few scratches on her arms, Hermione rushed forward and began whaling away with her improvised weapon at the plant wherever she was certain her friend wasn't, screaming at it as she wrapped her other hand around Hari's ankle.

"No! Bad geranium! Spit her out, she's mine, you can't have her!" It has to be said in the bushy haired witch's defence, it was a very strenuous moment, and she didn't realize exactly what she'd said until later. She continued to fight, stunning her friends and classmates as she punctuated each spat word with a strike from the runner. "Let her GO! You pompous, prominently pernicious, perpetually pugnacious, poorly-potted petunia! You horrendous herbiage! Give... her... back!" Finally, with a mighty heave, Hermione dropped the runner and braced herself as the frightened flora spat her rabbit-girl friend out. She staggered back a bit and collapsed on her butt, arms full of a saliva-soaked Hari.

Hari, for her part, had heard everything, and knew that the young witch she called friend had saved her, if not from death, then from a miserable few hours as they pried her from the plant. With a cry of "My Hero!" she wrapped her Hermione in a hug like no other and planted (ignoring the pun) a kiss on the other girl's cheek... or tried. At just the wrong moment, Hermione had turned to face Hari, trying to see what her friend was up to, and was soundly, and loudly, kissed on the mouth.

Hari was mortified at what she'd just done. Her first real kiss... Hermione... goooood... baaad girl... The toon girl's white fur turned red slowly, from her neck upward, until her entire face, even the full length of her ears, was a bright crimson where the fur wasn't black, and she fainted.

* * *

She came to her senses after the lesson had ended, although it took a while for her fur to return to its natural white. The rest of the class had already left, and Professor Sprout was waiting for the rabbit-girl to wake. As she stirred, touching her lips as if she couldn't get past what she'd done, the Herbology Master, her Head of House spoke up, without turning.

"So now, you're wondering if you're weird, right?"

Hari shook her head as she grinned. "No Professor Sprout. I'm a toon, I _know_ I'm weird." Her cheeky answer caught the older witch off-guard, and Pomona Sprout laughed hard. When she managed to stop, she continued.

"That's alright then. Now, I'm sure what happened today was an accident. Well, the kiss was, I'm not so sure that you winding up in the Fanged Geranium is so innocent. Your friend Miss Granger showed the kind of loyalty that makes her a badger, as well as more than a dash of Gryffindor bravery... she'd have done well there, perhaps..."

Hari snorted. "With Weasley there? It would be constant arguments and them trying to hex each other until they either killed each other or mistook abuse for love. Maybe I wouldn't see that if I hadn't been taken in by the Rabbits, but that's my thoughts."

The Herbology Professor sighed. "Maybe you're right. She has the courage of a Lion, the knowledge of an Eagle, the cunning of a Snake and the heart of a Badger. Perhaps this was for the best. But she is your friend, and as a Badger and her friend, you two will always be that. Don't let this incident shape your lives, or rush you into _any_ decisions about yourselves... even if you think into is the way to go. You talk to her, and then the two of you think about it, and how you feel about it. Remember, you're young. You have plenty of time."

As Hari left the greenhouse, Pomona noticed a smudge of white with a trickle of reddish black at the centre on the floor where the Fanged Geranium had spat out the young toon. Smearing it with her fingers, she lifted it to her nose and sniffed. It was some kind of paint and ink, mixed with... blood...

* * *

As Hari rushed towards the Great Hall, she paused. There, in the middle of the corridor was a small pile of carrots. As her nose twitched, she moved a little closer. Obviously, it was a trap. No-one just left carrots lying around like that. Carefully, she picked up the carrots, one at a time, to make sure she didn't set off the trap, and examined it. "_Hmm. A simple tripwire holding down a noose. Now how would Unca Bugs or Daddy deal with this?_" Roger would have tripped it and klutzed his way through the rest. The only person she'd encountered since who was anywhere near that degree of clumsy was a Seventh Year Hufflepuff, Nymphadora "One Warning" Tonks. Everyone called her Tonks.

Uncle Bugs on the other hand...

Concealing herself behind the door, in front of a portrait of an armoured knight called Sir Cadogan, a shameless flirt with the girls who challenged every boy he met to a duel for their lady's hand, she pressed on her throat a little and let out a _sproing_ sound very similar to the sound this trap would make if set off. By dint of timing, she did this just as Fred and George Weasley, the self proclaimed second-best pranksters in the school's history, came around the corner. The two recognized the simplistic design of one of their younger brother's attempts at a trap. He'd tried the same thing with them, baiting the trap with Zonko's products, and scratching his head trying to figure out why the bait was gone when the trap hadn't gone off.

At Hari's sound effect, they had front row seats to see Ron leap from hiding to grab in the wrong direction with a cry of "Gotcha!" The universe held still for a dramatic pause as Ron looked down at his trap wrapped around his ankles. Looking straight at the twins, with a face that looked like he was about to burst into tears of sadness, he had time to whimper "Got me?" before being wrenched ceiling-wards by his feet... hoist by his own petard. The twins, and indeed, many others, were all laughing hard, many of them rolling on the floor, so no-one saw Hari, chuckling, get struck by Ron, upside-down, robes over his head, flailing wildly, and pushed into Sir Cadogan's portrait.

As Hari lay sprawled in front of the panted knight, he looked down and orated. "What I would not do, that I might possess thee... and a can opener. My very kingdom for a can opener, and my very life for thee!" As Sir Cadogan stepped forward, Hari sprang to her feet, panicked, and ran off to the next portrait in the Hall, with the Knight in swift, if leisurely, pursuit. He reminded her too much of the infamous Monsieur le Pew that her dad and uncles had all warned her about, and she was determined this would _not_ end the way his cartoons always did...

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the toilet stall, and began to wash her hands. The soapy water splashed up her arm as she absently thought of today's events, and one hand rose to her lips. She still didn't know what to think or feel about that. Wasn't she too young for this?

The stinging pain in her arms dragged her from her musings as she pushed up the sleeves of her robes to reveal deep scratches. At the time, with Hari in trouble, she hadn't thought, and hadn't even noticed getting these. Now, afterwards, she looked at them and shivered with reaction. She'd risked her life for her friend, when her friend couldn't be killed. She was a toon, and the only thing that could end a toon was a strange concoction of paint thinners and chemicals to erase... ink...

Hermione's conscious mind made the connection, now, that her subconscious mind had made, then. The saliva and digestive juices of a Fanged Geranium were used to erase inks and paints! Argus Filch kept them around his office for dealing with graffiti! And she had dragged Hari out of one. She had saved her first and best friend's life when no-one had realized just how much danger she'd been in... She dropped to the floor, wrapped her scratched and slightly bleeding arms around her knees and sobbed.

* * *

In the Great Hall, Argus Filch and his cat, Mrs Norris, raced across the floor to the head table screaming in panic. "TROLL! There's a troll in the castle! Some student let it in, I saw 'em! Couldn't tell who!" there was an instant commotion as the students began to panic, but Professor Dumbledore stood, roaring out "SILENCE!" as he did. Having achieved his aim of freezing everyone in place, he turned to Professor Vaughn. "Your show, I believe, Charles."

As the Defence teacher stood, he began laying out the plan. "We don't know where it is, only that it's not here. The students will be here while the teachers scout the thing's location. I'll remain here until it's found, in case it finds us first. Staff, no less than three to a group, and only one over the age of sixty in each group. Who can perform a patronus? One of you in each group at least, communication is key." It was rapidly becoming obvious he had the right job.

* * *

Hari had stopped dead in her tracks, pressed against the side of the painting as she looked frantically for the bushy brown hair of her friend. She couldn't see her, she wasn't there. As Sir Cadogan closed the distance between them, gaining on her now that she wasn't running, she strained and with a tearing effort, not noticing the ink and blood from several scratches in her right arm, leaned out of the painting until she was hanging next to Hannah.

"Where's Hermione?" she demanded, and while the shriek Hannah emitted was amusing, it was less than helpful. The whole Hall was looking at her now.

'S-second f-floor girls' b-bathroom," Hannah stammered, one hand clutching at her heart. "Said she had to clean up before the feast..." Turning, Hannah discovered she was talking to empty air. A crashing sound, as of plate armour thrown against a wall drew everyone's attention to the portrait where hari was pushing Sir Cadogan against... the surface of the painting? No-one knew how the toon had gotten in there, but it had to do with one of those Laws she kept yelling about. Hari was yelling at Sir Cadogan.

"For your information, Sir Cad, I don't kiss boys. I don't have time to play." Clearly visible in the portrait, her magic was roiling around her like flames. "My friend might be in danger, and I demand your assistance. Now. Were... does... that... door... go?" As she gritted the question out through clenched teeth, she indicated the door at the back of the painting.

"I-I-I d-don't know," the painted knight whimpered, very intimidated by the rabbit-girl in front of him, a scene which brought Monty Python to the mind of every muggle-born in the Hall. "We can't open those, we're just memories in visual form, we can't affect the paintings."

Hari dropped the knight as she strode to the door in question. "Well, we toons are imagination in visual form. We are what we're supposed to be. Illusions of _your _fantasy. All dots and lines that speak, and say," here she turned to face the stunned hall-full of magicals. "What we do is what you wish to do!"

With that, she flung open the door and disappeared out the back of the painting.

* * *

Hermione stopped in her tracks and looked up. She'd just emerged from the bathroom after drying her eyes. She'd come to the conclusion that she hadn't felt she deserved the kiss Hari had 'rewarded' her with, even if it was intended for her cheek, because Hari hadn't been in danger. The fact that the toon had been, and might have died otherwise, had sent the young witch into shock for a while. Once she got over it (Hari _wasn't _dead, obviously, and so the 'Hero's Reward' she'd received had been well-earned... and kind of nice... no, bad thoughts, bad), she had again scrubbed her face at the sinks and headed for the feast... or that _was_ the plan.

Now, staring up, and up, at the towering mass of muscle, fat, muscle, stupidity, muscle, ugly, muscle and stench... oh, and muscle... that was a Scottish Mountain Troll, her mind went blank. "_Great,_" she thought, "_I just get used to being Hari's hero, and now _I_ need one. That's it, I've had enough._" Her rational mind was frozen. So she screamed.

* * *

Hari threw herself at the front of the painting, giving its usual occupants, a medieval monk and an oversized man with a quarterstaff (at his size, more of a buck-and-a-quarter-staff) barely enough time to get out of the way, just as the troll raised its club. As the club began its downward arc, the rabbit-girl shoved her friend to the side and took the full brunt of the impact, her right arm 'bleeding' more, unnoticed, as the blow from the hundred kilogram piece of tree smashed the toon into the floor. There was a wheezing, music-like sound, as from an accordion, as the concertinaed form of Hermione's friend rose from the crater in the floor. "Is that-" WHAM. The troll brought the club down again, apparently amused by the sounds the toon made after getting hit. "All you've-" WHAM. "Got... oh look, little broomsticks..." Bored, the troll decided to change things a little. After all, if this creature made a few funny sounds when you it it, what kinds of sounds would it make as it bounced off the walls...

Hermione grabbed Hari's arm and screamed "RUN!" Unfortunately the troll had much monger legs and one step brought it into range for its club again. Hari was still a little woozy, but she saw the approaching club and wrapped herself around Hermione, determined to cover her from the impact.

Neither one noticed the trickle of link and blood that belonged to Hari trickling down Hari's right arm... and into the scratches and cuts from earlier...

The troll's club drove Hari hard into Hermione, and still retained enough force to fling them both, not at the wall, as the dim-witted troll intended, but at the portrait hanging there. A portrait they both fell into... and found themselves lying there, inside the painting. Hermione looked sick, like she was in pain, and Hari knew that the painting wouldn't hold up long if the troll figured out they were in it. She dashed to the next portrait, popped her head and wand arm out, and threw red sparks at the troll. Her plan was simple, lead it away. The troll wasn't playing along and grabbed her before she could dive back in, dragging her out of the picture. As it brought her up to its face, in desperation, just as Professors Sprout and McGonagall got to the top of the staircase behind her, the raven-haired Potter-Rabbit shoved her wand up the troll's nose, where its spell-resistant hide was of little use to it, and screamed, pushing all her magic into it. "RUBRO SCINTILLEO!"

It was only the red sparks spell. It was meant for signalling, for fun, or for calling for help. But it was being fuelled by desperation and a desire to protect Hermione long enough to figure out exactly what they meant to each other, to keep her friend safe, and was fed with every scrap of magic the toon-rabbit could push into it. Deep within her, a binding shattered, and her eyes blazed with emerald fire even as cascades of crimson sparks fountained from the troll's ears and a very surprised look washed over its face. Hari pulled her wand back out of the troll's nose and glared at the puzzled look on its face as smoke poured out of its ears.

"This is the part where you fall down," she said, as she forced herself to move towards the painting she'd left her friend in, and lift her out before dropping to the floor to lean against the wall, with Hermione cradled in her arms.

After some thought, a few moments at most, the troll said "Oh." and fell over. As the Defence, Transfiguration and Herbology professors arrived, with Hermione safe and looking up at her, Hari felt she had to say it before she passed out.

"Professor Vaughn, I _really _hope this isn't on the test."


End file.
